Skirmish
by BATstrider
Summary: A US Special Forces A-Team is pinned down by some very pissed off Iraqi insurgents. Technically not an act of war, and by all rights a strike on a terrorist organization, 4 AS descend from the sky to provide some much needed assistance. Two part!


"They're getting _hammered._"

In the valley below, a US Special Forces A-team traded bullets and rockets with a horde of pissed-off insurgents. The rip of 249s and Shrike squad automatic weapons could be heard even at this distance, with the lighter cracks of carbines on semi auto and the occasional explosion punctuating the symphony of noise. The fire let up for a split second as an RK-92 Savage began peppering the A-team's position with 40mm fire, but a lone operator popped up with a rocket launcher and blew the Savage's head off. The outgoing fire resumed almost immediately.

Kaunan-13 drew back from his binoculars, turning to look back at his small fireteam of PRT operators. They were equipped combat light, as light was as possible for a long-range patrol into denied territory, which meant that they were survival gear heavy and short on ammo. They would be of no help to the beleagured SF operators down below. They didn't even have any heavy ordnance, which he assumed would be necessary in the next few minutes as more RK-92s stumbled towards the Americans, unstable on the rocky terrain of the valley floor.

With a quick flurry of hand motions, he ordered four of his operators to set up blocking positions lest their outgoing comms be intercepted; he motioned to his RTO to come to his side as he brought the binoculars back up to his eyes.

The radioman jogged over, took a knee, and looked expectantly at his commander.

"Get on the horn," said Kaunan-13, "And tell Higher we're gonna need a more … _influential _presence in this fight."

The RTO grinned and unhooked the SAT phone from it's cradle as the team leader breathed a low "Daaaaaamn…"

"Higher, this is Lookout-One-One. Bring them in."

* * *

Far above the desert battleground, two gunmetal-grey C-130 transport planes dropped ECS and became visible, then descended from the clouds. The aircraft were devoid of any livery, an indicator of the "black" nature of its mission and its cargo.

"This is Transport-One-One to Strike Team, be advised: We are halting holding pattern and entering attack mode. ECS Invisible mode de-activated. All flights are at Angels-Five. Request for deployment has been received. Prepare for drop, over."

"Urzu Lead, roger. All units ready for combat drop pending confirmation code."

Characters flashed across the pilot's control panel, a message from headquarters. Only the Captain herself could initiate the start of Direct Action AS missions, so the codes had to come directly from the_ Danaan_.

"Confirmation code received. Alpha-6-7," responded the pilot, tilting the stick and adjusting the plane ever so slightly.

"Code confirmed as A67, Urzu Team deploying. See you on the other side, Urzu Lead out."

Three M9's, two of which were of the "Black" and Electronic Warfare variants, fell from the rears of the transport planes, accompanied by an ivory-hued fourth AS with an Anti-Tank Dagger clamped in its mouth. Armed with an assortment of 40mm rifles, blades and ATDs, the team had a myriad of boxlike attachments placed on hardpoints on their bodies, which, to the casual observer, seemed to be add-on armor or something of the sort.

The small AS unit continued its descent to the ground, where the follow-up Savages grew ever closer to the embattled American unit, who continued to throw everything they had at their attackers in hopes of holding out for the extraction bird. They didn't know what would run out first, though; munitions or bodies.

Probably bodies.

Within seconds the unmarked AS team had passed Angels-One, then popped chutes on their AS to slow the fall in the last one thousand feet. The Savages should have acquired them on scanners by now, especially since they were running sans ECS mode; Urzu Lead decided to act before they took any incoming fire.

"Lead to all units, prep Area Denial Packages for deployment on my call."

"Seven, wilco."

"Six, wilco."

"Two, wilco."

Status lights winked green all across Lead's instrument panel, informing him that the rest of the team had indeed activated their ADPs. He grinned, a feral animal baring its teeth before the kill, and gave the order.


End file.
